the inner life of lady fitz

Lousy March

I leave for Philadelphia Saturday morning for the weekend, and when I come back, I don’t want to deal with the heaviest winter woolies.

So there. I don’t mean the sweaters, or the flannel PJs. The down jacket remains a wardrobe staple. It’s only March, for crying out loud.

But the turtlenecks are going away until the days are shorter than they are long.

I had popped into a “new” thrift on my way back from an assignment, since it was lunchtime and I’d had my eye on the spot a while. Had a red vintage Hawaiian dress in hand and red slippers with fur pom poms on the toes when the phone rang. Assignment desk calling with a new job to run out on.